Harvest of Decision
by Zaedah
Summary: A telling of the Book of Ruth in modern times.


_I tire of people telling me the Bible is not useful for application in modern life. Therefore I have revisited my favorite story, placing Ruth in a time not long past to show that her lessons can be learned by us today. The names and specific events have been altered, but still follows the Biblical story very closely._

* * *

**Harvest of Decision**

In grief, there is no victor. A borrowed grandfather encouraged adherence to the adage when his heir passed into twilight. Spirits should not fail, he believed, so long as there was Spirit above. Loss, like faith, was a state from which his grandson's bride had long been sheltered. Until the wrath of night claimed the oldest and youngest of the family. Old words lay in old graves, no comfort rising with the flowers before the stones two women left behind. Three generations of men had been committed to the ground in recent weeks and all remembrance of joy was smothered in the dirt with them.

The travel was conducted in silence. The sobbing was confined to the length of a day and now barely a trace of moisture betrayed the sorrow hanging upon the huddled women. One, a long-time widow of former importance, led her daughter-in-law from station to station. Caution and anguish kept them from slumber for days. Until tonight. On a slow-moving train, they laid their heads against unpadded seatbacks and rested. The older woman sat near the aisle, guarding their virtue and possessions even while eyes slid into sightlessness. The younger woman leaned near the scratched window, watching the passing landscape with sleepy interest. How her husband would have loved the plains of dust and cactus his mother used to speak of fondly. This was the land of Nadine's people. This is where they'd begin again.

Her beloved city trailing behind them with the reclusive sun, Ruby could count now fewer telegraph poles, sporadic signs of life showcased only by porch lights. They were going to have a porch one day, John had planned. And a house to wrap it around. She had permitted herself to dream of its fruition because he had been known to make such grandiose fantasies transpire. He had also become known as soldier number 1127 to die in combat. The loss tore at his mother Nadine even more viciously than the death of the elder woman's husband 16 years ago. Now the women fought for balance as the train rocked on its tracks, as if to declare there was no stability to seek here among the rubble of the Southwest.

Nadine's other son had been killed in the same war, yet Richard's passing was greeted with near expectancy. Not one for the trappings of family, more was seen of his wife, Opal, more than himself in the year since their marriage. The adventurous man-child knew no fear. Nor did he know his limits. Rather than a battle wound, a fellow soldier had delivered a fatal blow when the whispers of liquor assured Richard that he was invincible.

Last week, Ruby had watched the radiant Opal part ways with them, having been encouraged to return home to her waiting parents. At first Opal refused, but the eagerness to leave overcame her wavering sense of responsibility. Ruby, however, could not be swayed. The only home she'd ever known was in her late husband's imagination. The house with the porch with children and rocking chairs. Sometimes she could still hear him recite the measurements of this or that, his cadence sure and calm. And when the increasingly grey Nadine confessed she could barely recall her favorite son's voice, Ruby knew Nadine must not go alone. Though the old woman cited an unfamiliar climate, a culture markedly different than the city life to which they'd become accustomed, and a loneliness multiplied by isolation, Ruby would not turn away. Even this morning as they climbed the train's steep steps, Nadine tried to reason away Ruby's decision. It was not to be, her mother-in-law seemed to finally accept as exhaustion pulled her into a sleep three months delayed.

When the train's abrupt screeching alerted her to the journey's end, Ruby jumped fully awake. Her careful bun had escaped its bonds in sleep and Ruby quickly tied the reddish strands back. Her companion had evidently left her side and after a brief search through the narrow path between bodies and baggage, she found Nadine taking in the crowd beyond the window. For a moment, Nadine's focus remained on those standing beneath the platform's awning. When she turned damped eyes to Ruby, they displayed a hesitation born of time's unkind passage.

"They won't know me anymore," the aged voice was forced between dry lips, deepening the downturn of her mouth.

"I know you," Ruby whispered with confidence not yet reaching her eyes. "And they know you're coming, so let them greet you and accept whatever comfort they give."

Compelling her spine to straighten, Nadine allowed a deep breath. "Comfort I'll never have again." Leaving Ruby's side, Nadine picked up two weathered bags and stood by the doorway. "Come on, child."

The crowd that had gathered to meet the passengers unnerved Ruby. Indeed this section of the country was unlike her own, the people differing in dress and mannerisms. The loose, easy gestures contrasted to the muted physical language of the city she'd called home since birth. But the lightly accented words were pleasant to her ears and the smile came more readily as the impish children she passed poked between adult legs. Becoming separated from Nadine, Ruby spotted the ebony-clad woman moments later, surrounded on every side by 5 elderly women. Approaching, Ruby could hear the sympathetic words they cooed to Nadine's unresponsive ear.

"So terrible, burying two children before you. Not to mention your husband." The woman in purple patted a shoulder growing tenser under the touch. "So sad to hear, Nadine."

The tallest one nodded vigorously under a sweeping hat. "So true. And to be stuck with that girl, barely a woman and already a widow. Nadine, you were never meant for such a burden."

"Much agreed," the wider one boomed, causing nearby heads to turn. "You always had so much more than us. I tell you, Nadine, I don't envy you the loss of it all."

Nadine kept her head down, sensing Ruby's arrival and reaching for her hand. "Please don't call me Nadine anymore. That name used to be spoken so sweetly by the ones I've buried. I'm Maris now."

"But…" they all started but the widow's hand rose to silence their protests.

"Nadine had everything. Husband, sons, position, respect, joy." She counted the losses on her free hand as the expressions of her audience stilled. "She had a home, friends and purpose. Now, God has decided to take away these things and send me back here with nothing. So I will use my hated middle name in this hated situation. Maris is the person before you."

Her resoluteness suppressed opinions prepared to boil over into words and the women of one accord stepped back. Long moments of soundless nodding passed before they disbanded, going their own ways as Maris and Ruby remained standing on the platform. When Nadine began to walk, Ruby obediently followed with her lone bag heavy in her hand. She'd have to remember to call her mother-in-law by her chosen name now. She herself would not change her name for all the world. So much did her husband admire the jewel of her name that she would not dishonor him by cursing it.

~*~*~*~*~

Arriving at a tiny square of a house, Maris explained that the old brick home had been her inheritance at her parents' passing. She'd let it sit abandoned, perhaps for this very reason. After a cough wrought by dry winds and melancholy, Maris declared that it might have been divine favor, but God had given her so little of that recently. His punishment was harsh but she would not renounce Him. The conviction awed Ruby and she determined that despite all she had lost, she would seek Maris's God as her own. Ruby's mother, many years sleeping in the soil, had been a fortune teller with no god but her painted cards. Her father would hear of no higher power above himself and what his hands could create. And in the sliver of years married to a fine man, there has been little discussion of God. The condition of her husband's faith, or lack thereof, was unknown to a young bride consumed with the many aspects of a new union; employment, home building and baby names.

Being a girl of details, Ruby had long watched Maris pray and worship, the two simultaneous in everyday activities. Sorrow shadowed it now, but it could still be discerned if one peered harder. In this way, Ruby learned to follow her mother-in-law's God without posing a single question. Man walked a planet not of his making in a body not of his design. As Ruby could not make something from nothing, so the universe must not come from hands such as hers. And here among the dried bushes and dirt, she began to find Him in the infrequent water holes, the unexpected animal, the rare smile Maris displayed. The tiny miracles of the dawning day announced He was ready to be found. And search she did.

Maris portioned out the food they'd brought, carefully dividing with an eye toward tomorrow. But with each sunset, the existing sustenance dwindled closer to nothing. Maris had been assured help from distant family before arriving, but this had yet to materialize. Fretting stole the old woman's few smiles away and Ruby's efforts to find work was hindered by her meager skills. The town was small and the available tasks were hard to come by. Even the most menial jobs were given to those known by blood or friendship. Practicing what Maris taught, Ruth prayed fervently for an inspired idea. It came in the night, as her head sank into a pillow after a long day of divesting the house of its last few furry squatters. Dismissing the image of grain from her mind, Ruby fell into a restless sleep. And the dream came not once, but three times. Waking before dawn, the young woman found her mind would not stop until the idea was spoken. Maris was seated at the window, a ghost of the woman she'd been when they'd first met. And she looked famished.

"I've seen men harvesting grain near the end of town. It looks like hard work, but I don't see why I can't do it. I think I'll visit one of the fields today and follow the men while they work. Maybe I can gather enough discarded grain to make a few meals for us. They might not mind if I just take the unwanted ones."

Ruby had gotten this out in one breath and then sat back as Maris considered it. Though prepared to do whatever was required to ensure they survived, Ruth preferred to take no step without Maris's blessing.

"You can try, my dear." Maris replied in slow, measured words. "Just be careful of the men and don't be greedy. Take what they'll allow and not a speck more."

Having strolled through the adjoining properties in morning hours, Ruby knew exactly where to try first. The most organized field was tended by strong and able workers, heaving containers and steering machines with practiced skill. She left early that morning, trusting God to turn their hearts in her favor. Every step she took on the walk to the field kicked up dust, which appeared as gold in the first hues of sunrise. She envisioned the particles carrying her hope heavenward. Gripping her tattered basket a bit tighter, she hastened her pace to beat the sun to the grain.

Heat bathed every inch of ground, soaking the skin and stinging eyes. Toward the midday, slowing limbs swiped at foreheads as the unseasonably warm day saw the workers' plight and chose not to amend its path. The foreman must have noticed the shy stranger had only stopped once in 7 hours because he approached with a drink in hand. Until then, the crew had opted for haste in their work over greeting the newcomer.

"Drink up, miss. Don't want anyone dying out here."

Ruby paused in her collection, rising from protesting knees to receive the cup gratefully. "Thank you for letting me follow you today."

The middle-aged man shrugged, his sun-hardened face shadowed by a wide-brimmed straw hat. "Name's Riley. I knew your father-in-law. Good fellow. Treated everybody the same."

It was a fair summation of the man. Fingers tightening around the thick cup, Ruby could feel the coldness of the water and remembered what her new savior told about such kindness. The overalls may be stained and the voice rough as broken rock, but this was a man now blessed by God.

"You won't get in trouble for your kindness, will you?"

With a gesture serving to dismiss concern and brush sweat from his brow, Riley grinned. "Who's gonna miss a basketful, right?"

A quick thanks offered to God, Ruby smiled at the weathered man before sipping the water slowly. A few more hours of daylight would bring several more handfuls and the drink would keep her going until then. But the end of the day would not be reached entirely as planned. Having deciding to slip away unnoticed when the first workers began to disperse, Ruby was surprised to see a man approach her row in the field. Tilting her head down, she picked up her basket, intending to leave before he could take note of her presence. A moment's hesitation was her downfall. He was handsome, carrying with him an air of position and responsibility. The extra minute spent in study of the man also bore a reckoning that he was headed directly toward her, purposeful strides on long legs rushing to meet her. She wasn't unsure if an introduction or a lecture was to follow and though the instinct to flee was strong, she could feel God's hand staying her shoulder.

"Young lady," he called from a few feet out, quickening his pace until he registered that her basket had returned to the ground before her. He stopped at a reasonable distance and Ruby displayed the meekest smile in her possession.

"I'm sorry if I'm imposing. I just…"

"Imposing?" He waved off the notion. "Listen, I want your word that you'll only take from my field. Don't go into anyone else's. They may well accuse you of imposing, but I won't." He raised a hand to cut off any argument. In truth, Ruby was far too stunned by his abrupt proclamation to offer rebuttal.

"In fact," he continued, "When the workers rest, you will too. And you'll help yourself to the drinks in the coolers. And the food we provide them." His was the voice of a man used to magnanimous offers, but childhood fears taught her made such kindness seemed inappropriate.

She finally found her tongue. "But I don't deserve all this. I'm just a stranger."

"Stranger?" The man laughed, not at all mocking. "I know you very well, Ruby. Everyone in the family talks about what you've done for Nadine."

"It's Maris," She whispered the reminder.

Snapping his fingers, he smiled broadly. "My mistake. Maris it is. God smiles on her by giving her such a devoted daughter."

The blush could not be reigned in at his affectionate tone. "I'm the lucky one, sir."

"It's Byron. And since I own this field, what I say goes, right?" She nodded a quick agreement. "Good. Walk with me, young lady."

He picked up her basket and turned to the center of the field, where the last shift of workers were poised over their task. Following obediently, Ruby listened carefully to the words he spoke during the short walk. He told her to stay with the women who handled the gathering at the heart of the field. As they were just sitting down to their last break meal, Ruby was commanded to do likewise. He then departed and walked briskly to the foreman, instructions clearly being given concerning her. Once the sun began its descent, Ruby picked up an increasingly heavy basket and lugged it home.

~*~*~*~*~

As Maris portioned the basket into small containers, her lips never stopped their silent speaking. There was prayer taking place in the old house and Ruby joined her whisper to it. So much food, far more than she'd hoped to acquire. God must be thanked and thanked often for the blessed harvest she'd been given this day. So intent on grateful praising, Ruby was startled to feel eyes upon her. Looking up, she met Maris' questioning stare.

"Exactly what field did you manage to sneak into to get all of this?" A hand waved over the bounty she had finished dividing. The hand shook as she held it aloft, waiting for an answer.

Ruby smiled as she explained, "The one God showed to me last night. First the foreman welcomed me, then the owner himself. He told the men to let me gather freely and practically made me promise to take breaks with the women. And he'd supply the food!"

Considering this with a nearly hidden grin, Maris shook her head. "You didn't answer my question. Who's field?"

"He said his name was Byron." Ruby recalled his introduction and was about to share his words when she noticed confusion casting a shadow across her mother in law's face.

"Could it be the same one?" Maris asked to the wall, her voice barely audible.

The old woman rose abruptly, engaging in a contemplative pace from kitchen to living room and back. Ruby held in her questions until Maris finally returned to her seat at the table. A sigh indicated the exertion had been taxing, but her eyes carried a lively, almost pleased glint. One Ruby hadn't seen in many years.

"Yes, he must be." Maris continued her last verbal thought as though she'd never paused. "His family is no stranger to me. Indeed, we are his family. Not close, mind you and only by marriage, but family still."

Rising again, Maris began to sort the containers and find homes for them. In short order, they had the grain stored away and Ruby calculated that the amount would last just over a week. It seemed like far more when the weight of the basket wearied her arms. They would need much more to manage the winter months. Byron's open invitation provided the means to shore up their supply for the coming cold.

"I'll wait several days before going back to the field," Ruby decided. "So I don't wear out my welcome. And I'll do everything just like he told me."

Maris laid an arm across Ruby's shoulders. "Maybe, my dear, God still has a bit of favor left to shine on us."

~*~*~*~*~

Somehow during the course of time, living got easier. And it was more than just full bellies. The two women who were dealt a cruel hand of loss found joy increasingly available. Laughter, a stranger to their throats, came at least once a night. The light of hope, long extinguished from Maris' heart, stirred darker embers into a spark. The old widow breathed her husband's name for the first time since his burial. Stories of her sons began to emerge from her lips and tears did not immediately follow. And she'd reconnected with the family that had promised help and the gifts from their daily farm became regular.

As for Ruby, the dawn that used to haunt her, that spoke of the one missing beside her, was now met with anticipation. There would be a conversation each morning with a field owner who'd taken unexpected interest in a mere widow. Speaking nothing of any consequence at first, the greetings and well wishes for the day grew into brief talks of the past, the future and dreams never before voiced. The more she learned of Byron, the more Ruby felt her shouldered burdens lighten by degrees. And though she wondered if she was betraying her husband's memory by thinking so fondly of another, she could not muster the feeling. It was as if God refused to allow shame to form and hinder some grand plan of His.

Once a week Ruby would head out to gather, old basket in tow. The half hour trek to her destination was filled with grateful songs she sent to the Lord. She thanked Him for the decisions that guided her life to whatever patch of road or grass she happened to be standing upon. She praised His crafting of every bird that sang back to her. Continually she prayed for clearer understanding and direction, in order to remain in position for His blessings. The days spent in this manner spread a soothing balm over her wounds. Joy was regained in this tiny town and sorrow evaporated with the rain in the summer sun.

In town, Ruby's hair was cut back into the shape that she'd worn down the aisle. Nadine had bartered for material and began stitching together a few new clothes for them both, of muted colors veering away from the more recent black. There was gossip in the stores, ladies telling tales about the available men, Byron among them. Keeping herself apart from the suggestive talk, Ruby used her time to pray for God's advice on each item she considered purchasing. Since turning her decisions over to God, Ruby found a new wisdom upon which even Maris commented.

The morning that marked her second month in this new place, she arrived at the field to find Byron standing at the gate with a visitor. The man was impeccably groomed and expensively dressed. The two men separated and the stranger moved toward the field. In unison, the backs of the workers straightened, their movements grew crisper, almost mechanical, under the rich man's watchful eye. Ruby watched the friendly field hands she'd come to know put on airs of pride, limbs taking on such precise movements. Ad she felt out of place. When the stranger began circulating among the workers, she lowered her gaze to the row she'd been kneeling beside. The young girl to Ruby's left leaned toward her, excitement tempered by a forced whisper.

"See that man? He's the richest in town. Practically runs city council by himself."

The girl quieted immediately as he passed them, his gait slowing to scrutinize the women. The man bore a stocky build on a tall frame with dark eyes scanning under a heavy brow. No eyes rose to meet his and only when his shadow moved away did they dare lift their heads.

"Does he own the field, rather than Byron?" Ruth asked, confused by his inspection.

"Certainly not," an old widow spat in contempt, then pointed to the south. "No, he owns the one over there. Thinks his field and workers are better. That's why everyone turns robotic, to show off a bit."

The young girl sighed. "Don't know why Byron lets him stroll through here. He does it once a month like clockwork. Even in this heat, it gives me the chills."

Unable to argue that assessment, Ruby returned to her work, a careful glance tracking the man every so often. Eventually, he made his way back to his chauffeured car, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. As she could find no true fault in his actions, Ruby decided once a month was no terrible price for Byron to pay to maintain civility with neighbors. Yet the stricken expression Byron wore throughout the remainder of the day did not escape her notice.

~*~*~*~*~


End file.
